Utopia
by librastar
Summary: She was like a utopia that was always just one step out of his reach - but that was exactly what made her a treasure worth fighting for. A series of loosely connected Gilgamesh / Saber oneshots and character analyses.
1. Pride

**Disclaimer:** As always, I can't claim credit for the wonderful world of the Fate franchise because all characters, places and references are the copyright of Type Moon and Gen Urobuchi, and everything else is simply a figment and work of my imagination.

 **Utopia**

 **Chapter 1 - Pride**

It was the sudden crunching of leaves underneath his boot that gave them away.

Raising its head in alarm, the stag paused momentarily as its eyes flickered from right to left; almost as if the animal could smell predators lying in wait. The moon's gentle rays bathed its majestic snow-white fur in a silvery cloak, illuminating it with a faintly ethereal glow. Despite the night air being completely still, save for some neighbouring crickets, the graceful mammal clearly decided that its drinking hole was no longer a safe refuge; darting away into the safety of the forest's shadowy depths in a matter of seconds.

Instantly, he let loose a string of arrows at the fast-retreating deer. But by virtue of its swiftness or sheer luck, the animal managed to evade them all.

Raising his bow in pursuit, he was about to fire another round of projectiles before a firm grip wrapped around his arm. "Let him go free, Gilgamesh."

The golden-haired king let out a disbelieving snort. "We have not stayed hidden at this very spot for 7 days and 7 nights only to have our target elude capture as soon as it is spotted. Who knows when we may ever see it again!" He made to stand up, dusting his golden-plated armour and boots that were both stained with flecks of the forest's earth. The stag could not have gone far, he could still hear the faint sound of its hooves thundering no more than a few metres away.

Looking at his companion's impatience, Enkidu merely let out a chuckle. "Ah, that may be true," he smiled, scanning the shadowy darkness carefully for a glimpse of white. "But Gil, aren't some things the most beautiful simply because they are unattainable?"

Pausing momentarily to digest his words, Gilgamesh raised his head to the starry sky. A storm was coming; he could smell it in the wind, making it likely that the thunderous rains would wash away all traces of their quarry's scent. With only a selected few of Heaven's chosen ever being lucky enough in their lifetime to check a glimpse of the divine animal, there was no telling if their pursuit of The Great White Stag of Mesopotamian Divinity would ever come to fruition, or simply remain another legend to be told around the embers of a fire.

Catching a flash of brilliance at the corner of his eye, the Babylonian ruler nodded as he signalled to Enkidu to head northwards back to Uruk. Giving a last glance back, he murmured, "Your resilience is splendid – never let it tarnish."

* * *

Pride was a beautiful thing.

Gilgamesh had ruled a mighty empire spanning almost a quarter of the Ancient World, commanded armies with as many soldiers as there were grains of sand in a desert and amassed so many of the world's finest treasures that he had long ago stopped caring to count. His people had sang songs, fashioned his likeness into clay and marble and immortalised his exploits in poems carved onto stone tablets so that the mongrels may continue to know his name throughout the ages.

He had been exalted as the greatest King that Babylon or the world would ever see again. Part human, part god; Gilgamesh would forever be revered as the alpha, the first, and the supreme Hero and King of the world.

And yet, even his greatness had not been without marring. He had received both the praises of his subjects and the damning of the Gods, tasted the headiest heights of pleasure this life had to offer and languished into the deepest abysses of suffering.

 _Enkidu._

Yet, Gilgamesh was proud.

He may have admitted defeat in his failure to save Enkidu from the wretched gods and later, in his quest for immortality. He had lamented in utter despair as his only sworn friend had returned to the dust and clay he had come from and watched in fury as the snake had swallowed the elixir of immortality he had come so desperately close to having.

But Gilgamesh was proud still; of the life he had led, the kingdom that had once been his and the glory his reign had shone on his subjects. To deny his worth would be equivalent to denying that the sky was blue – the rejection of a reality.

Nonetheless, here stood that foolish girl spouting nonsense about how she desired the Holy Grail as a means of changing her country's fate and rewriting history.

In other words, the legendary King Arthur; undefeated King of Knights and one of the greatest heroes ever to lead Britain – was ashamed of her kingship. She wished to undo the wrongs of her reign and allow someone else to take the throne of Britain; all in a bid to undo the destruction her homeland had eventually succumbed to.

It seemed unthinkable to Gilgamesh that anyone would ever desire to do so.

Despite her idealistic, foolish utterances, Saber did not strike him as anyone devoid of pride. She spoke of pride in her lifetime of devotion and service to Britain. She spoke passionately, even reverently about the need to sacrifice herself for the sake of her country and people. Despite being relatively short of stature, she stood as tall and proud as any warrior, wearing her badge of pride and chivalry on her proverbial sleeve.

Then, Rider ripped her to shreds.

Gilgamesh tolerated, maybe even respected Rider, just a little. It was difficult not to be infected by his larger than life persona, although the golden Archer would never care to admit it. While his philosophy was stupid, the Babylonian ruler could appreciate the pure and noble love of conquest that he boasted of. Where Gilgamesh had loved to rule, Rider had loved to conquer. Where Archer had sought to dominate, his fellow king had sought to win. Iskandar loved and led his people by example; by being the greediest, the loudest and the biggest dreamer of all.

Two different, yet related sides of a coin.

Gilgamesh would make sure he personally put an end to the King of Conqueror's foolish dream; after all, delusion of such scale by an otherwise admirable figure deserved to be struck down on nothing more than the grandest of stages.

But for now, there were more amusing matters at hand.

"You saved them, but you never led them. You never showed them what a king should be. You abandoned your men when they lost their way. Then, alone and untroubled, you followed your own petty little ideals.

Thus, you are no true king. You are only a little girl, enraptured by a false idol of the king who serves others, but not themselves."

Her face crumpled at Iskandar's words, twisting into a glorious mess of shock and humiliation. Ah Rider, to have the gall to actually deny Britain's greatest King to her face and shatter the very pedestal she believed she had stood on her entire life…

Why, he hadn't laughed so hard in centuries.

"What's so funny, Archer?" she spat, the venom in her voice clearly meant to disguise the hurt and humiliation the little king was surely feeling right now.

Training his gaze slowly over those enchanting green eyes, he curled his lips into one of his signature smirks. "Your face…it's just like that of a virgin deflowered in bed." Taking delight in how her brows furrowed in consternation at the innuendo behind his comment, he deliberately let a lecherous note enter his next words, "Exactly what I like."

Laughing once again at her predictably disgusted reaction, he settled down to watch the two mongrel pretenders (he would not acknowledge them as true kings) engage in the remainder of their verbal sparring. Though he had to admit that as irritating as her naivety was, the King of Knights stirred something in his breast and it wasn't entirely to do with her pure, virginal beauty. Perhaps it was her steadfast commitment to upholding her ideals even to her death, or the pure, self-sacrificial spirit of nobility she embodied; which made watching Rider strip her of every inch of her illusions, beliefs and _pride_ all the more enjoyable.

He almost felt sorry for her.

Yes, Gilgamesh could not deny his growing fascination with the blonde Saber-class Servant.

Sadly, those detestable Servants belonging to Kirei decided to make an appearance at that very moment; no doubt on Tokiomi's orders, that mongrel. His uninspiring Master was beginning to form an annoying habit of interrupting the fun just as it was reaching its climax.

Gilgamesh felt a slight twinge of satisfaction when Rider materialised Ionian Hetairoi, watching impassively as the Assasins were swept away as if they were nothing more than the sands of the desert under which the great armies of Alexander the Great stood upon. So he had been right in guessing that the blathering old fool had more up his sleeve than met the eye. This truly would be a fitting stage to showcase the absolute power of Ea and bring a final end to his magnificent yet foolish dream.

"All dreams must end when the dreamer wakes," he murmured, watching the last of the Assasins disappear as Rider's Reality Marble dissolved and gave way to the starry skies of the real world again. Next to him, Saber had remained silent throughout the one-sided obliteration of the Assasins. "Wait, Rider," she called hesitantly as the scarlet-robed Servant sheathed his sword again, lamenting the lack of entertainment his opponents had provided. "I'm not done yet." She held out her hand apologetically.

To his amusement, the elder king only stared down at Saber with a clear look of disappointment on his face. "You would do well to keep silent, girl. Tonight's banquet was meant to be a conversation among kings…but I no longer acknowledge you as a king, Saber."

The female knight was so shell-shocked by that final, damning snub as Rider rolled off in that ridiculous contraption of his that she forgot that the Golden King was still standing beside her. But though she clenched and unclenched her fist furiously again and again with her jaw so tense it looked like it was about to snap, she stood firm.

Was Saber naïve in her utmost conviction that the Grail could grant her dearest wish of undoing Britain's destruction?

No question about that.

On top of that, was Saber completely deluded by her self-sacrificial martyrdom that in some ways was every bit as selfish as Rider's brand of tyranny during his reign?

Oh, the Babylonian King certainly thought so.

In her own way, she was an even bigger fool than Rider for wanting as well as believing that by erasing the marks she had made on history's books, she could somehow change the course of fate her country was destined to fall to.

But yet, she did not move to lie, deny or regret the ideals that Iskandar had just denounced. Like a golden flower, the gentle blossom belied a steely strength that continued to shine throughout the darkness of confusion and doubt she was surely battling against. Pride borne from such desires too lofty to be borne by any human…such a fall would be spectacular.

Gilgamesh had to admit, he was enraptured.

"You need not listen to him, Saber."

That got her attention. Noting the small sound of surprise that escaped the blonde woman, he continued. "Follow the path you believe in. The agony and conflict you wallow in as you bear the burden of a kingship too heavy for anyone else..." his smirk grew again. "...it really is a pleasure to see."

Predictably, her eyebrows knitted together in undisguised anger as she realised he wasn't offering her any soothing words of comfort. Gilgamesh chuckled internally. She really had the most adorable reactions, particularly to him; it was as if every word that came out of his mouth was guaranteed a frown or grimace across that lovely face. He couldn't wait to see how much more of him she could take before cracking or exploding and her breakdown would surely be a thing of beauty he would make sure to personally savour.

Stretching as he stood up, the Golden King couldn't resist throwing a parting shot at her. "Keep at it, King of Knights." Once again Saber paused, hesitating at his words. "You might actually prove even more worthy of my love."

He couldn't help but let his laughter ring into the night as he dematerialised, imagining that splendid look of fury she must have on her face right now. No doubt she would be cursing his name until she drifted into the land of dreams and shadows, her pride stinging as she replayed his words over and over again in her head.

 _Until we meet another night, my little lioness._

* * *

 **A/N** : This chapter actually turned out to be something like a character analysis of Gil and how his thoughts may have been during that pivotal scene in Fate/Zero. Writing Gil is so enjoyable, simply because that man is so twisted yet interesting in his own right. While I would secretly love a fluffy Gilber story, it was impossible to write one simply because unlike fanfiction Gil, actual F/Z or F/SN UBW Gil is actually well...kind of a jerk.

Reviews and constructive criticism most welcome.


	2. Passion

**Utopia**

 **A/N:** Special thanks to Nafa, KitsuneMiyuKendraHyuga, Getsunohimesama and all you lovely readers who favourited and alerted - Gilgamesh bestows you with his virtual golden confetti :)

 **Chapter 2 - Passion**

"My king, we have grave tidings from Camelot."

A long silence passed as Agravain stood wordlessly before her, fist clenched tightly around his sword's bejewelled scabbard. While his face remained calm, the unnatural brightness with which his eyes shone betrayed his nervousness.

"We discovered Sir Lancelot in Lady Guinevere's bedchambers, Your Grace," he finally replied, his eyes downcast as he refused to meet her gaze. "While fleeing the castle, he slew Sir Colgrevance and twelve others of our brothers-in-arms. There is no mistaking it this time – it is treason."

"And where is Sir Lancelot now?"

"He has retreated to Joyous Gard, along with Lady Guinevere."

"Then relay the message to our company to prepare themselves - we attack Joyous Gard at dawn."

Even late into the wee hours of the morning, Arturia lay awake, staring mindlessly into the darkness as she tossed from side to side. Her body was weary, but her heart was wearier. She could hear the silent whispers of her retainers outside the tent, no doubt discussing the latest turn of events in this accursed saga or debating the lengths to which the King would really go to against his former favourite.

"You remember that it is the King's duty to execute the Queen for high treason, Your Grace?" Sir Gawaine said quietly as he poured them both a rich red wine after taking supper, a grave expression lining his once-handsome features. It was easy to forget that Father Time was not so forgiving to those who usually led a life of constant fighting and war. While the numerous scars decorating her body was proof of that, Arturia's face remained as youthful as the innocent young girl she had been the day she had touched Caliburn. He passed her the drink. "She has to be made an example of to ensure your people's continued faith in your judgement." While his tone was not without sympathy, the warning note behind it was clear.

Swirling the dark crimson liquid in her goblet, the young king stared at her distorted reflection in its dulled, golden surface. Her skin looked pale, drawn. But her eyes were akin to cold, hard chips of emerald; unwavering and uncompromising. "If she has to die for Britain, so be it."

She closed her eyes, letting the darkness overwhelm her chaotic thoughts.

"I thank you, my lady."

Guinevere slowly turned around, taking care to rearrange her features in a smile as she faced Arturia. But the female knight had already seen the look of despondency she had worn moments earlier, the joyless smile adorning her lips that left her eyes as empty and sorrowful as before. Guilt pooled in the little king's stomach.

"For what, my lord?" Guinevere replied. Her voice was musical, lilting. It was said that the sound was so beguiling, even knights from fifty leagues away would be entranced if they were to hear a note of it.

Arturia said quietly, "For doing your duty for your country."

Guinevere remained silent, her hands twisting nervously in the gauzy white silk of her elaborate wedding gown. It had taken the dressmakers more than thirty moons and five bushels of lace to make it; Arturia herself never understood the ecstatic sighs and squeals ladies of her age would make over a mere piece of fabric but she had to admit Guinevere looked enchantingly beautiful in it. A dress fit for the finest maiden in the realm, they had proclaimed.

Fit for a Queen.

"It is my duty and my pleasure to be of service to Your Grace," she recited dutifully, her clear, sapphire eyes not quite meeting Arturia's own.

She knelt down beside Guinevere, ignoring the young bride's shock and nervousness at the sudden action. "I cannot offer you what you desire, but I will do all in my power to ensure that every other of your needs and wants are fulfilled."

Arturia tossed restlessly again. Was there a feeling in this world that was so strong, it would compel someone to break their vows and violate their duty to their country? Was the lack of love in their barren marriage really so devastating that it drove Guinevere to commit adultery, or was Lancelot to blame for tempting her?

Most of all, was love really that important?

Arturia had renounced most claims to humanity when she had pulled out Caliburn from the stone all those years ago. Love, happiness, weakness…a king had no place in his life for them. Not only could they be used as weapons against him, but also they served as distractions in the sole purpose of his life: to serve the people and country he ruled.

That burden alone was the king's to bear – such was Arturia's decision.

Her burning love for Britain was enough to fill her heart and she had pledged her loyalty to her country to the end of her days, till death did them part.

But in the loneliest of nights, even the King of Knights wondered what it would be like to have a man touch her. Though she had lived most of her life as a man, in her most secret desires there still remained an instinctual longing to be desired as a woman. The warmth of a man in her bed, around her waist, between her legs…

"Your Grace."

She slowly opened her eyes.

Sir Gawain's grim face swam into view. "It's dawn."

* * *

"You cannot win against me, so lay down your sword and be my wife!"

The utter shock from his words almost caused her to lose her footing and Excalibur swung wildly from her grip for just a fraction of a second before she managed to recover. Sinking to the floor, beads of blood oozed down her left thigh where his sword had pierced her moments earlier, leaving dark stains over the pale blue fabric. A dull ache was also beginning to throb from the wound, the pain clouding her mind before he sent another sword flying her way.

Instinct took over momentarily as she rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding having her stomach shredded to ribbons.

As the King of Heroes took a step towards her, she tightened her grip on Excalibur before he suddenly held out his right hand.

"I mean it – be my wife."

Arturia raised her head in confusion.

"But…why?" she could only croak as a mixture of disbelief and scorn bubbled in her throat, leaving her with a strange urge to burst out in laughter.

Gilgamesh's piercing scarlet eyes though, were filled with anything but humour. For some reason, the searing intensity with which he was training his gaze on her caused heat to rush to her cheeks and Arturia furiously fought to compose herself.

The ancient Babylonian King paused, running a hand through his perfectly spiked golden locks; clearly she was at a disadvantage. Archer had not even broken a sweat while Saber was both physically and emotionally spent from her showdown with Lancelot in the previous room.

He fixed his commanding gaze on her again. "A Grail that grants miracles?" he mused, slowly circling her as he came closer and closer to where she unceremoniously lay splayed on the floor. "Why place your faith in such a dubious miracle?"

A gasp escaped her lips as she desperately tried to stand up; her eyes squeezed shut as pain lanced through her thigh at the jerky movement.

Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes at the struggling female knight. "Abandon your foolish vows and ideals. From now on," he spread his arms. "…seek only me and be stained in my colour!"

She almost threw Excalibur at him in fury as white-hot anger surged through her. How dare he assume that she was some plaything, some vacuous girl that sought to….With a final grunt, she forced her legs to straighten. "You'd take the Grail from me," she clenched her fists. "…for such nonsense?!"

Another bout of weapons rained down on her, knocking her already weakened self off-balance with the both their force and velocity.

Gilgamesh glared down at her imperiously. "I wasn't asking your opinion, this is what I've decided!" The golden King raised his hand. "Now, give me your answer."

Wincing at the rapidly intensifying pain in her body, she gritted her teeth. "I refuse! I will never…"

It took every ounce of her willpower not to scream then and there as she felt the blade graze her side, the metallic stench of her own blood filling her nostrils as she felt warm liquid leak from the wound.

"Are you too embarrassed to accept?" He frowned, crouching down next to her as she thrashed wildly.

"Get away from me!" Saber snarled. Casting her eyes around frantically for any sign of Kiritsugu, she caught a glimpse of hundreds of arrowheads and sword blades peeking out from the golden glow of Archer's Gate of Babylon; glinting menacingly in a hailstorm of death. No, she was too close to her dearest wish to lose here. And especially not to that arrogant bastar…

She gasped suddenly as Gilgamesh pulled out the sword from her leg. Staring at him in shock, her confusion only gave way to pure bewilderment when he brushed his lips against her ear and whispered, "If you do, as king of all the world, I swear to give you every pleasure there is to feel."

Involuntarily, Arturia shivered at his words. His breath was achingly hot against her ear, sending shudders down her spine that weren't entirely unpleasant. Every pleasure…but there was no time to waste listening to his deranged ramblings. She strengthened her resolve again. "Get out of my…!"

"So you will choose your love for your country over me then?"

Not for the first time that night, Saber fought to keep her jaw dropping in shock.

Taking her hand in his larger one, Gilgamesh actually began caressing her fingers and while his blood-red eyes continued to bore into her green ones, the King of Knights couldn't help but notice the fleeting softness in his eyes as he looked at her. A tiny flare of…doubt(?) crept into her mind.

"What are you doing?" she half-murmured, not expecting an answer. The situation was absurd, unreal; seconds before this they had been engaging in a battle royale to the death for the War's biggest prize and...

The next thing she knew, he was hovering over her smaller frame, his hot breath fanning her face as he leaned dangerously close to her lips. While her first instinct was to rip Excalibur through his head for having the audacity to even come closer to her, a second, more frightening instinct was to lean into his touch and narrow the gap between them even further. Her heart was pounding furiously like the thundering hooves of a thousand horses. She closed her eyes, letting the tingling all over her body send her senses into overdrive.

"Just once, you should put yourself above the needs of Britain. I could make you happy…if you submit to me."

Her eyes shot open. "That is not love, those are the words of a tyrant!"

He chuckled, brushing his lips slowly and deliberately over hers. "Don't you want to experience it, just once?" Nipping at her neck, he began to kiss a fiery trail down her chin, her collarbone...she stifled a moan. Grinning his approval against her skin, he whispered, "Be my Queen...I can give you so much more than this…" As he continued licking and sucking her neck and murmuring in that low, seductive baritone of his, even Saber felt her rationality slowly dissolve into a hot mess. Was this what had driven Guinevere to...

Gilgamesh paused to lick his lips. "Oh my little virgin King...I can show you that nothing burns hotter than the passion between a man and a woman. Not even hate." He smirked.

Hating the part of herself that was desperately screaming in protest, Saber summoned the last of her strength to violently shove him off her. Caught by surprise, the King of Heroes landed on the ground in a crumpled heap.

Breathing heavily as she tried to compose herself, she gathered Excalibur.

Dusting himself, a dark shadow crept over Gilgamesh's chiselled features as a deadly aura began to swirl around him. "You may give the wrong answer no matter how many times you wish." As he gathered his prana, Saber could only watch in growing fear as the other Servant began to summon forth a battery of weapons. With her strength severely depleted, even Arturia was unsure if she would be able to survive the torrent of blades he would be sending her way in a minute.

His eyes darkened malevolently. "In order to learn the joy of serving me, you must first learn pain."

The blonde King was readying herself to face his assault when the sudden movement at the back of the theatre caught her eye.

 _Kiritsugu!_

"By the name of Emiya Kiritsugu, I order you with my Command Spell."

An overwhelming rush of elation swept over her, erasing her pain and fear from the battle with Gilgamesh. Kiritsugu had won, the Grail was nearly theirs…

 _Give me the Holy Grail…!_

Kiritsugu held up his right hand, the light bouncing eerily off the inky-redness of the Command Seals etched into his flesh. "Saber, use your Noble Phantasm…"

 _This was it!_

"…to destroy the Holy Grail!"

No…!

Horror encapsulated her as Excalibur began to glow with the light of a thousand suns.

"By my third Command Spell..."

"Kiritsugu…why?!" Angry tears were leaking uncontrollably out of her eyes. She closed them tightly, desperately willing herself to resist the compelling force that was activating her Noble Phantasm.

"Mongrel, you dare disturb my wedding ceremony?!" she vaguely heard Gilgamesh exclaim.

"…I order you again to destroy the Holy Grail."

As a wretched scream tore from her throat, a fleeting regret passed through her mind.

 _Perhaps_ _this was her punishment…a just punishment for a King that failed to understand her people…_

In those final few seconds, with a jolt of shock she caught sight of the look of pain on Gilgamesh's face. As the light engulfed tore through the fading remnants of her disappearing body, his eyes locked with hers and she saw him mouthing a single word.

 _Saber._

* * *

 **A/N** : These three minutes from Episode 24 must be my favourite scene from the entire Fate Zero show. I know I've tweaked the Gilber part slightly, but don't you think it would have been just that more interesting if this had really happened? (jokes).

Reviews and concrit much appreciated as always.


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